


Lacunae

by Frostfire



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-09
Updated: 2005-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostfire/pseuds/Frostfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What the hell are you doing here?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacunae

**Author's Note:**

> For the 38 minutes challenge on sga_flashfic.

John finally finds McKay with the life-signs indicator, lying on his stomach in a hallway down in the depths of Atlantis, tinkering with something that’s spread out in pieces all over the floor. He picks his way through the crystal and wire until he’s close enough to kick Rodney’s calf.

McKay jerks and reaches up—to pull his headphones off. Right. John missed them in the tangle of Atlantis-wire, but they definitely explain the missed page. Jesus. And now he’s got a pissed-off scientist looking up at him from the corridor floor—“What the hell do _you_ want? I’m trying to get some work done, here!”

He’s not going to get angry. Both of them pissed off at the same time won’t help anything. “There’s a problem with one of the generators. Zelenka’s been trying to reach you. Elizabeth’s been trying to reach you. I’ve been trying to reach you. When you didn’t answer the all-city page, we thought maybe something had happened. But obviously we should have guessed that you’d be in the middle of nowhere, taking the _hallway_ apart.”

Okay, maybe he can manage to keep from getting pissed off, but the sarcasm will not be suppressed. Come to think of it, that sentence right there sums up a lot of his career problems to date.

McKay still looks pissed off, which John really thought would go away with _there’s a problem with one of the generators._ Apparently not in McKayLand. “It’s three in the morning!”

“My point exactly!”

McKay rubs his eyes. “All right. Unsurprisingly, we have here a failure to communicate. I suggest we shelve this for the moment, while I ask— _what_ problem with the generators?”

So John fills him in, and McKay picks his way out of the delicate-parts obstacle course and takes off, John jogging behind.

When the crisis is averted and McKay’s congratulating himself for having saved the day once more, John remembers the corridor and pulls him aside to ask if he’d been taking the hallway apart for any reason that might be uncomfortable or life-threatening.

“What? Oh, no, that was just something I was working on. Don’t worry about it. Nothing important,” and McKay goes back to recapping his wondrous exploits.

 

Later, John tries to confirm the thing’s non-lethal nature, and gets hopelessly lost in the Ancients’ system maze. But there aren’t any alarms coming from that particular area, so he’s finally forced to conclude that they aren’t going to explode or sink anytime soon—not from that, anyway—and start wondering what the hell Rodney was doing tinkering with random hallway parts so late at night.

 

About a week later, John’s running a reconnaissance in one of the unexplored sections when he practically trips over Rodney’s legs.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he shouts, before he realizes that once again, the headphones are on. He kicks Rodney’s calf, harder than last time.

This time, when Rodney jumps out of his skin, he lands on one of the crystal parts and spends fifteen minutes bitching John out because it could have broken and _then_ what the hell would he have done with the insert-science-too- advanced-for-John-here?

When John can finally get a word in edgewise, he repeats his question.

“I was _working_ ,” says Rodney. “What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

“Reconnaissance. We haven’t explored this section yet. Which is why you shouldn’t be here.”

Rodney waves a hand. “I think I know this place better than you do, Major, no matter how much it sits up and begs for your DNA. I’m perfectly safe.” Something in the wall gives off an enormous spark, and they both jump back, managing to avoid possibly-breakable parts this time. “Ironic cosmic timing notwithstanding. Go reconnaisse.”

He goes. Reconnaissance shows nothing apparently dangerous. He tries to suppress the complete lack of surprise.

 

The third time’s a week and a half after that. This time, John’s just wondering who the little person-dot so far away from everything is, and checking it out to make sure whoever it is isn’t lost. As he approaches the dot, he pretends he isn’t looking for legs sprawled across the hallway floor.

As it turns out, Rodney’s standing up this time, inside a small room, and the annoyed look only lasts a minute before he pulls off his headphones, grabs John’s hand, and sets it on the…thing…he’s looking at. It lights up instantly, and Rodney says, “Hold still,” keeps his hand on top of John’s for a second to make sure, and then turns back to tinkering. Rodney’s hands are really surprisingly large. 

Twenty minutes later, John’s hand has been moved around to various places around the room, and Rodney’s glared at him every time he opened his mouth. Finally, Rodney lets out a breath and gives John his hand back. “All right. Go ahead. What the hell am I doing here?”

“Actually, that’s been getting kind of boring. I was thinking more along the lines of ‘where the hell is your radio?’” John really…should be more pissed-off than he is. Twenty minutes of watching Rodney work, and he’s been sucked into a bubble where time slows down and focus is narrowed to parts and wires and tiny little manipulations that reveal their secrets. It’s hypnotic, almost.

“Left it in the room,” says Rodney, who also doesn’t look as pissed-off as he maybe should. “I had the music at a low enough volume that an all-city page would easily have penetrated. What do you want?”

John starts to explain about the dot all by itself and worrying that somebody might be lost and who wants another Jinto-incident, and—

“You are a control freak.” It doesn’t have the usual sting of Rodney’s insults, and John almost smiles. “Now go away and let me work.”

But John’s really kind of fed up with this by now. “But what are you _doing_? I find you somewhere totally uncritical, doing something you won’t explain, without anyone else knowing, and as the ranking military officer—”

“Would you shut up? Don’t you ever want to get away from stupid questions and life-sucking aliens for half an hour?” And now Rodney looks pissed off.

“I—” Okay. Getting away. Bubble. Hypnotic. Right. John suddenly feels…kind of stupid. “I usually fly. Or let Teyla beat me with sticks.”

“Well, did you ever think to pull your head out of your ATA-gened military ass and think about how _other_ people handled it?”

Rodney’s always the most irritating when he’s being condescending about being right. Which is…always. And yeah, John’s in trouble. “Okay. Sorry.”

“Thank you. Now—”

“Would you like another option?”

Rodney stops. “What?”

“I was just…thinking. If you wanted to, sometime, instead of working, you could come flying. Or—something.” Christ, he’s pathetic. But flying…well. It’s like being in a bubble away from everything, and it’s even better because you really _are_.

Rodney blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it again.

Well, at least it looks like he got the message.

And then he smiles. “That sounds…good. Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

John…really can’t help the grin. “Good.”

“Good. Now go away and let me work.”

When he gets back, John pulls out the life-signs detector and stares at the little dot for awhile. And…still can’t help the grin.


End file.
